Island of Wolves
The hound dogs surround
in groves of filthy packs.
I cannot say they are bleeding
but I smell their injuries wherever I go.
Their howls linger in the smog cloud
outside my bedroom window.
Who will tame their greed? It is necessary
to have an answer to this destruction – the streets,
the kitchen are in need of repairing. Around the corner,
death drips like a carnivore’s favourite dream.
They are following the order of things,
full of hope but immune to all good faith.
Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Walking Is Still Honest”
You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.
“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.
Reblogged this on The ObamaCrat™.
This poem is so graphic – I can smell it. Profound and true line, can see myself in it:
“They are following the order of things,
full of hope but immune to all good faith.”